Champion Of War
by Zavexien
Summary: Percy is a poor boy living in the streets of a cruel Manhattan. A man comes to him, one day, and gives him an offer that might change his life. Percy's destiny would change forever, and he would be forced into dangers awaiting his death. What he makes of his power, entirely depends on him. Rated T for profanity, violence, and a dark plot.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my first story on this website, so I firstly should thank you for at least attempting to read this, whether you liked it or not. I got this idea from reading something about greek gods, so basically you can see what the story's about when I decided to consider this idea. Hopefully this chapter is good, and reviewing might give a little motivation for me to make improvements to my writing, so don't be afraid to point out certain errors.**

_**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Under no circumstances do any of the names, characters, and events taking place in the story have connections with anything or anyone. Any similarity is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. PJO belongs to RR.**_

_**Warning: Depiction of violent scenes is included. Profanity is used. Characters may be portrayed in a darker, sadistic sense.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Percy would've laughed if anyone had bothered throwing money his way.

In the harsh, sadistic environment of the New York street alleys, there was more danger lurking in the shadows than what the usual, busy lifestyle of New Yorkers seem to presume. Well, being abandoned at a very young age _could _mean that he'd have to fend for himself for a full 24 hours. Though, he might exchange a day without peril for just a few dollars that might give him a good breakfast. The very first good breakfast he could have in the last 10 years of his life. It shows how much concern the deprived got from the world.

He admitted it; he was hungry. He always was. He sometimes had to search leftover food scraped near garbage bins and wolf them down before the vermin had arrived and take them away. So it would give him some incentive if someone had at least thrown a dime into that handkerchief of his. But they probably thought, _Oh, but I only have few left in my pocket, what am I going to do? I know! I'll come back tomorrow and give a lot more! _And Percy will never see them cross this alley ever again.

His body spoke for itself, too. The thin, frail legs, an unhealthy stomach, sagging ribs, they all reeked of hunger. On top of that, the scars made slick remarks of his predicament as they smeared themselves all over and increased the sense of guilt on the by-passers looking at him with fragments of pity.

And he absolutely _hated _it.

He wanted to strangle them so badly he cried for not being able to. He wished he could just throw a garbage bin at those wealthy bastards looking smug with those _sick _jewellery they wore all over themselves, not even considering the risk of being robbed. But here he was, begging in the streets with no authority to rule this people. Here he was, being controlled by the actions of these selfish assholes. Forever living like this, till a day came when someone would save him. When it would come, he did not know.

A very sudden clang shook Percy's thoughts. His pale sea-green eyes turned very quickly at the source of the sound. _What the hell?_

Squinting his eyes at the far, dark end of the alleyway, he spotted a few garbage bins scattered about from something that apparently had pushed them. However, there was nobody there to confirm his suspicions. A few minutes later, a disheveled black cat jumped out from one bin.

Percy got up disdainfully from the cemented ground, awaiting any threat that was about to show its face sooner or later. He scanned the dull, lifeless red brick walls on either side of him, and then to the back, where there was only the empty road that brought silence. There was no one here besides him. He knew he was about to be attacked.

_One._ He felt like someone was watching him, lingering around, as if calculating his every move. _Two. _The presence felt stronger, like it was running towards him from somewhere, about to ambush him. _Three. _He thought he heard a plastic bottle tear.

Out of nowhere, or what could have been from above, a rough, meaty hand raked his hair, muffling Percy's screech. The ambusher's other hand was quick to cover the boy's mouth, and he felt a forceful surge blast through his spine, numbing his entire body and nullifying his brain. _Fuck!_

Percy dropped to the ground from shock, unable to process what had occurred in the last two seconds. He could still feel his attacker's presence, but he failed to recognize where. Clutching onto his head, his eyes tried desperately to clear the blurred vision he saw, while the world was being tilted from side from side, making him dizzy. He forced himself to get up from the ground, shakily. His legs staggered and his eyes drooped slightly.

The numbness was starting to swell, however it disappeared almost instantly, and Percy could slowly feel his body stand straight. His vision was still troubled by some dark spots he saw here and there, but he could make out the thug standing interior to him with a sneer on his face. Percy noticed the scalpel sticking out of the thug's left pocket, ready to be used when provoked. Percy wasn't ready for another scar to add to the countless others that were still visible from past attacks. Though, in almost all attacks, Percy was abused. This would be no different.

"What do you want from me?" he croaked out, failing to find his voice in this fight-or-flight situation. The thug simply sneered, refusing to reply. He had asked the same question to all these thugs every single time they had attacked him, and in almost all of those times the only reply he got was hits from their fists. The rest of the times he got kicked on instead.

But for some reason, Percy wanted this to be the last time. He wanted to fight back. He wanted to show these motherfuckers that he wasn't everyone's punching bag. If he were to die, he would die defiantly.

His attention was brought back to the thug, who had his scalpel armed and ready to strike. Percy began to shuffle to his left, bringing his opponent to move accordingly, in order to face each other body-to-body. His forearms bent slightly, though he doubted the thug noticed his movements. Percy next brought his arms to chest level, carefully motioning them so they do not seem to garner too much attention. The thug gripped his scalpel's handle tighter, but sharp green eyes were quick to spot the tension of muscles and in turn, anticipate the oncoming attack.

With a long abduction, the thug thrust his weapon forward mightily to stab Percy's vulnerable stomach. However, he saw it coming and instinctively brought his right hand out with speed, grabbing the thug's forearm rigidly while the same time avoiding the lethal blow to his stomach that would've instantly killed him. This had recoiled the thug a bit, as he wouldn't have expected for someone to cancel out his attack _completely._

Percy's mind sneered to itself, as over-confidence was starting to surface. He could beat this prick and feed him to the vermin. And everybody would stop messing with him after they saw what he did. Then he would have power and control in the streets. He would be unstoppable.

However, Percy didn't notice the thug's _other _hand that had found its way to his right shoulder. He didn't notice that his hand was removed of its grip the next second and was now in his attacker's clutches. Snapping back to reality, his eyes only caught the thug's snarling breath and malicious expression before he was flung off the ground for an inexplicable 3 seconds. _Shit!_

He landed the next moment like how he was feeling when he was ambushed. His body turn numb once more while pain veiled his brain, and the blurry vision returned worse than what Percy experienced momentarily. This time he wouldn't be so lucky. The thug would want to kill him now for what he did. He would have already begun to bring his scalpel onto his head. And then the pain would worsen and he would die slowly and painfully. But he had at least enjoyed two full seconds of control, of authority. He would let the world know that he hated it. In the end, there really was no one there for him.

Suddenly, Percy felt a strong presence take shape somewhere near him. He could feel a load of emotions with it. Strength, war, power, control, bloodlust, ruthlessness. He could almost feel his body bring itself back to existence. His awareness returned. The pain subsided. The blurry vision cleared.

His mind woke itself up, and when his eyes was alerted, his attention was brought back to the thug, still standing in front of him, but a large shadow covering his physique. And the thug looked afraid. _Really_ afraid.

A split second passed, and a huge, buff figure smashed his way pass Percy, before a violent eruption of punches shocked him just by watching it take place. The figure beating the soul out of the thug was way too big to be humane. He had big, broad shoulders, a huge chest, thick arms, and a wide back. He looked like he could throw a thirty-floor building a hundred yards away.

But his eyes were the ones that intrigued Percy. He had caught one single glimpse of those eyes. He couldn't believe them. They were sockets of flame-colored spheres. And in those spheres Percy saw a wave of raw emotion. He saw the deaths of countless lives, the crying and sobbing of people, and the havoc caused by wars and skirmishes. He took only a second to witness it before he came back to where the fight still was taking place.

The muscle monster was still there, smashing a motionless figure on the ground. The thug looked like he took a massive blow, with scars and blood smeared in his face and a blue-black eye and a tattered shirt. Hulk continued to punch his victim's face painfully, grinning like a madman as he did so. It made him look almost evil. _Crack. Break. Repeat._

He finally stopped. And the next minute he threw the dead body into a green dumpster, making the latch fall and close it too. Satisfied, he flexed his arms and the bones in his body cracked simultaneously, and Percy flinched at the weird noise produced.

_This guy is sick._

The buff figure rotated his body, almost way too fast, and faced Percy with flame-socket eyes burning. Percy recoiled slightly and tried to avoid getting too close to his intimidating physique. Slowly moving his face upward, he forced himself to match his pale, sea-green eyes to those red, merciless eyes. He could see amusement in the face of his "savior". He could tell. The atmosphere each of them produced was _way _out of chemistry.

"What's it to ya?" The stranger asked him. It sounded pretty rude, but Percy was more than comfortable at taking insults to the face. Though it made him frustrated at everything, like he wanted to pick a fight with a wall. Percy tried to keep himself cool.

"Nothin'. Just get that face checked, will ya?" He countered. The stranger's eyes glowed harshly, and Percy tried not to look at them wholly. He didn't want to see those visions again.

"You wanna pick a fight with _me, kid?" _He growled dangerously, like he was about to shoot someone with a gun. Percy had barely begun to feel afraid. He didn't need to give bastards entertainment, he would go straight to the point and give them a piece of his mind. He wouldn't go down without a fight.

"And if I do? What're _you _gonna do about it?" Percy grunted, unwilling to bring this spat to an end. Why did this guy save him anyway? He couldn't have _pitied _him, could he? This two-fifty pound beast was going to comfort him? Give him a shoulder to lie on? Percy doubted this guy would put people before his reputation.

"You'll see what I can _do_," He snarled at him. Percy made a mistake at looking into the man's cruel eyes. Suddenly, he was in a different place. He saw the entire region he was in burning with flames. He heard screams and shouts for help. For some reason, he wanted to save those people. He wanted to save everyone from danger. But he couldn't. He couldn't stop the destruction. He couldn't stop deaths of many. He was helpless. That was the last thought before the flames around covered him like a shadow.

Percy snapped out of it. He felt his body stay frozen to the spot he was in. But he analyzed his surroundings. He was still in the alleyway. The stranger was still in front of him. He still had a mean sneer on his face. And Percy wanted to rip it off his face.

"What did you do to me, you asshole!" He yelled at the intimidator. What was he? Some black magician? No normal person would be able to manipulate his mind like that. This guy was not normal. He couldn't be human. And Percy wanted to get away from this freakshow before his mind got blown from the strange things happening around him.

The man continued to sneer. "I already said it, kid. I'll show what I can do."

"What you can do? What you _can _do? You just mind-raped me! You can't do that!"

"Damn, you're clueless as hell. Did you really think you were human? A full-mortal? You didn't even think you were half-god?" The man pressed on further. His words were like wires tangled up and being shook violently. Percy was having a really hard time. Could he just kill himself? A mortal? A half-god? What was this guy talking about?

"And I suppose _you're _a god? An immortal living on Earth?" Percy said sarcastically. This guy _had _to be joking. He was probably drunk; maybe that's why his eyes were a bit wicked. However, the stranger simply laughed. It was a sickening laughter, one that even made Percy want to cover his ears in _fear. _The stranger looked at him with wide, crazed eyes, as they glowed the brightest they ever could.

"I am Ares. The god of_ war._"


	2. Chapter 2

**We have returneth. Sorry for the freakishly long wait, too many commitments had made me a lazy logger. I bring you the second chapter of this story, so take your time and enjoy the whole bit. Constructive criticism is appreciated, do share your comments to me.**

_**Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Under no circumstances do any of the names, characters, and events taking place in the story have connections with anything or anyone. Any similarity is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. PJO belongs to RR.**_

_**Warning: Depiction of violent scenes is included. Profanity is used. Characters may be portrayed in a darker, sadistic sense.**_

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

"I am Ares. The god of _war."_

Percy didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. As if living in the streets wasn't enough mental and physical torment, he has a war god claiming he's from Greek mythology, bash some thug for him, and then tell him he's half-god. Very profound.

Percy looked at the man. He was a huge and buff guy, probably about 6'4, along with a bodybuilder's physique. It made perfect sense that he _could_ be a war god. But minus the fact that he quite possibly saved his life from a near death experience, it made no sense why he'd be interested in a wimp like Percy. He doubted he'd be of any use to an immortal if whatever shit he just heard was true.

"The god of war. And why, may I ask you, would I be worthy of your heritage?" Percy asked mockingly, but there was an edge of dread in his voice. He felt a strange force radiate through him, like a heart being pumped by thousands of blood vessels.

"_Worthy? _Kid, you're the son of an Olympian. The Earthshaker. You wouldn't know your own strength," Ares told him, looking at him like he was some sort of destructive nuclear weapon. Percy didn't have a clue of what Ares wanted him to do. The Earthshaker? The name did sound familiar to him, something related to Greek mythology, but all he felt was a churning sensation. Yes, churning. Like the sea. Water. He's always felt powerful near water, but he hadn't had a clue why. He hadn't drunk even a sip in the last few days. Maybe dehydration caused that adrenaline whenever he could get water. But he doubted that would be the most possible reason.

"Earthshaker? You mean like. . ." Percy paused. A name. A Greek god's name. He couldn't get it, all he could feel was some sort of connection. Crolydon? Makylon? Didn't sound very Greek-esque.

"Poseidon, kid. Sound familiar? The god of the sea, one of the Big Three, and your so-called 'father'," he made it sound like it was a bad word. Percy has never met his father. He was an orphan. A junk of the streets. It did make him resentful. But now when he heard that his Dad's an Olympian, he figured he would stay as an orphan. No telling what could happen if he was a son of the god of the sea. But looking at where Ares was going, he might as well have guessed that he wasn't going to escape his fate.

"Okay, so what are you going to do with me?" Percy asked. Ares's eyes glowed with hunger, like a wolf that had cornered his prey. Percy desperately wished that it had nothing to do with following him to wherever he was living in. There was a bit too much tension racing through his veins. He figured that if the gods existed, then so would monsters and all the other villains. Was he going to be the next Hercules? He laughed at that idea.

"Glad you asked, kid. See, we gods of Olympus have a little 'ritual' going since the start of Western civilization. We use heroes that emerge every now and then to do some of our bidding. Like Perseus, Theseus, Odysseus, so on so forth. So these guys slayed some monsters that were stirring up some havoc in ancient Greece at that time. We do reward them with some gifts when they come out victorious. Most heroes were also demigods. Sons or daughters of a mortal and divine parent. Like you," Ares spoke, looking at Percy like he was supposed to do something like that.

Percy thought to himself. If these gods had heroes to do their bidding, then maybe not all of them could come out alive and glorified for what they did. Besides, why did they need heroes anyway? They were gods. Super-powerful immortal beings controlling realms of the Earth at their will. They could kill any monster with just a flick of their hand or a snap of their fingers. Why would they need heroes? But Percy glanced back at Ares's orange-socket eyes, and he saw a human tied up with chains imprisoning him. The look on his face was defiance, like he was told to do something that he could not say no to, but he still did. However, the next moment, flames erupted all over him and charred him to ashes.

Percy blinked his eyes and zoomed back to reality. He looked into Ares's face, trying to read his expression. The war god simply smirked, and asked him," So, kid, you're a demigod. You don't got a life to live in when you're suffering like this. So I got a little proposition for you. You will become my Champion, my lieutenant, all-powerful, immortal, in top condition. You will serve me. However, be warned. Your soul and your flesh will be tested at battles. Whether you come out alive or dead, that burden lies on your shoulders. Be ready, Perseus Jackson."

He let the words fuse into the atmosphere. The air got colder, like something wrong was happening.

Percy looked to the sky. This was crucial. He could accept it, and change his life forever. Or he could decline, and live among the dumpsters forever. But upon Ares's expecting eyes, he said, or rather he mumbled, "I accept."

Thunder responded through the sky, even though it was a cloudless blue day. Percy felt the ground shaking too, like something bad had been made oath. He felt his master's eyes beckoning him to look.

"Come on, kid. Time for you to meet the other world." Ares snapped his fingers, and the next moment they were wiped off the face of the earth.

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><p>They reappeared at the entrance of a Greek arena. On either side of them there were pastel blue walls that would have been there for thousands of years. Percy looked ahead. In front of them stood a six meter tall door. It was carved with fine intricate detail, etched in art decorations, but the material was unorthodox. It was somewhat like black iron.<p>

Ares grinned. "You ready, kid? Time to see what you've got." He walked over and pushed open the latches on each side of the door. After a few minutes, Ares opened the door easily, and gestured Percy in to the arena. Percy followed his patron.

Across the massive brown-coated battlefield, there was a series of armory stations lined in a nexus, each housing a whole junk of steel armor and lethal weapons and all that. Percy was slightly baffled at the amount of materials placed to match the use of any warrior's taste. He guessed that he was going to get his hands on some, too. He looked over to Ares, who was already making his way to the very same armory station. Percy could tell he was going to get himself some serious fighting lessons.

"Hey kid, get your ass over here," Ares called out to him. Percy stumbled his way to the third armory station from the left corner, and was shoved a red-and-black elaborate Greek helmet by Ares. Percy noticed that Ares had the same kind of helmet too, along with other weapons of the same color. As Percy started to dress himself up all ready and pumping for battle, he glanced at his patron who was already making himself comfortable at the other end of the arena. Ares looked at Percy expectantly.

"You ready for your first lesson, twerp?" The war god asked, tapping his boot rhythmically on the ground. Percy looked on in disbelief. "And what about you? You mean you're going to fight in a leather jacket with jeans?"

Ares snickered snidely. He approached the center of the arena, and a cold wind knifed through the still air. Ares fixed his eyes only on Percy, and in a second snapped his fingers loudly. "Not anymore."

In a sudden burst a neon red cyclone surfaced around the god of war, but disappeared as soon as it appeared. Now, standing tall and big with an air of confidence and intimidation, was the same Ares, now clad in Greek armor with a large, sinister two-handed sword. He swung it around like it was a toy, making large grunts with each step of his foot, and Percy was unable to see his face shadowed by the long helmet. The only visible thing was two large, flaming sockets.

"Get yourself a sword, kid. Your first lesson's on sword-fighting," Ares said. Percy who was still reeling with fear from the war god's sheer size and aura, gripped onto the nearest sword he could find and reluctantly walked to the center of the arena. From a spectator's eye, the fight would have been seen as a battle between David and Goliath.

"Let's see what you've got." Ares lunged at Percy mercilessly. Percy would've mistaken the war-god's bulky physique as being slow and sluggish, but the god who had been fighting for eternity had the speed of an Olympic sprinter. Percy had enough time to parry weakly and duck out of his opponent's way. He somersaulted clumsily, and recovered to face another exchange of a solid strike from that lethal sword of Ares'. Percy breathed hard, only two slashes down and his lungs were burning of oxygen. Panting tiredly, he gripped his sword and stared at it for a moment.

It was a thin blade, about a meter's length enough to reach and a somewhat light feel. It was easy to turn and slice at, and it was definitely different from Ares' sword of choice. Ares' sword would be perfect for a fighter of pure brute strength and power, to crush opponents. But the sword Percy used needed a more skillful warrior, one that had dexterity but was also laid-back. Percy just needed to find a weak spot in the god of war's movement and agility.

Ares came back with another lunge towards Percy. The demigod stepped back and slashed his sword sideways, then twisted his wrist down and shoved Ares away. The war god stumbled for a moment, recovering from shock, but shook himself and eyed his lieutenant. "Not bad. Not bad at all, kid."

Ares proceeded to do the same lunge again, but this time faking a move forward and bringing his sword hilt down towards Percy's skull. From Percy's perspective, however, it seemed to happen all in slow motion. Time seemed to stop for him, and his body acted with retaliation. As soon as the sword's hilt was near two inches from its target point, Percy swung his sword in a full arc. But it didn't stop there. The son of Poseidon pivoted his sword, mimicking the same downward smash-strike but with the tip of his sword as the finisher. He stabbed down as hard as he could, right through Ares' knee in one lethal movement.

Percy heard a roar, or a shriek, coming so loud that it could have traveled across distances. But the damage had been done. Now, with golden blood oozing out like a waterfall was Ares clutching his right knee, completely crumpled to the ground from that killer move. Then Ares' wail stopped, and there was only silence, with the howling wind as the only sound.

Percy remained stationary, reeling from disbelief from what he'd done. Injured an Olympian, a god, yes, but the energy within him felt that he'd done more than just win. As his mind regained steadiness, he muttered to his patron uneasily, "A-Ares, a-are you. . . is that-."

The son of Zeus got up almost too quickly, as if the wounded knee had healed itself instantly. The golden blood that came out like a stream moments before now bled in drips. The god of war faced his lieutenant, and flung the helmet out and revealed his brutal face, that now harbored weakness and humiliation. The flame sockets that are his eyes were not as bright as they once were, now they looked like miniature suns, a candle's flame instead of raging wildfire. He glared once more at the son of Poseidon before shaking his head. "Guess I underestimated you a bit, I was starting to doubt if you were worthy of my patronage. You have somehow proven yourself, puny demigod. But don't push yourself. This is nothing more than a warm-up for the training that you will be put in, a gage of your abilities. You _are _a child of the Big Three, that much credit I shall give you."

The tone of his voice was serious and unassuming. He really meant it. But Percy could tell, or feel, that Ares was trying to cover up for what had just occurred, trying to add dust to a mirror. Percy could roughly guess that this was not and should not have been the first time. Percy was a rookie, an experienced and skilled swordsman would have made a mess out of the war god in a matter of minutes. He wondered that if he would be that person one day. But ignoring the future, he had to focus on now itself for the time being. He didn't even know the purpose for being a champion of a god, a servant. What he would make of his future, entirely depended on him and him only.

Ares approached Percy slowly and placed a hand on his shoulder. Percy felt different emotions flood his mind, from confusion to anger. However, with a flick of the god of war's hand, a red light passed from his palm and onto the son of Poseidon's forehead. Percy stumbled and fell to one knee, he felt his mind reeling uncontrollably. Fear, hatred, distaste, frustration all came at once, overwhelming his entire body.

Then they left the next moment.

Percy panted, shivering from the amount of energy that had caused a malfunction in his senses. But, strangely enough, he was not scared. Literally. Not even the slightest tinge of fear enveloped his heart, he felt completely free from its hold. Getting back up unsteadily, Percy looked back at his patron, bewildered. However, Ares only seemed unfazed, as if what happened was just a minor occurrence.

"What... What happened? What was that energy that you gave me?" The demigod asked cluelessly. Ares took a moment to understand Percy's emotions, narrowing his eyes intently, but his shoulders relaxed when he realized that there was nothing wrong with him. He exhaled slowly.

"Battle jitters."

"... The hell?"

"Anxiety, punk. I just removed your anxiety. You won't get those jitters every time you fight. But, there's a little price to pay," Ares explained coolly. Percy considered the god's words carefully. He knew that it was true. It was like fear didn't seem like an emotion to him anymore.

"What d'ya mean, "price to pay"? I just got relieved, right? No more feeling nervous or fearful anymore." Ares laughed, earning a frown of confusion from Percy.

"Nah, kid. Not true. Fear is universal. Everyone has it. It can't be "relieved", this gift I gave you is for battle. Anything besides war and strife, well, you're vulnerable as any other. Nobody controls fear," Ares said. Percy felt a little uneasy about this 'gift'. He felt that Ares was not telling the whole story, just a summary of what all of it meant. If there was a 'price to pay', it _would _mean that something had to be sacrificed in order to attain this gift. Percy was worried, but could not tell Ares without showing weakness.

The god of war stretched his body, cracking every other part. Percy guessed that lesson was over. But time with Ares and the Greek world was not. Besides, he could not go back. He had no food, no clothes, no money, no home, and no one other than Ares, who was not the best company.

But he had no other choice. He had taken the opportunity. He had to serve Ares forever, immortal, undying, and might face death in battle. He felt that it was no different than being a beggar on the streets. Forever a slave.

He looked up at Ares. "What now?"

Ares laughed. His champion felt a little unease at his laughter. The war god could be planning anything at any given moment.

"Glad you asked, punk. You see, I can't be keeping you a secret for very long now. Sooner or later _they're_ gonna be finding out. So, here's the thing. We're going to Mount Olympus," Ares said. Percy was dumbstruck, but strangely angry. What was he trying to say? That he was some experiment to keep some dumbass secret with? He felt that he was treated as a joke. Even getting harassed by people was better treatment than being the laughing stock all the time, from Percy's point of view.

"What do you mean? This ain't part of the plan, Ares! Besides, why would you want to bring me to Mount whatever-it's-called for?" Percy spat. He felt hateful and resentful. He had given a blood promise, no going back. Now he was getting double-crossed. And to make things worse, he could not decline his position. Besides, if he _was _to decline, he bet Ares would do some thing worse than send him back to beggar life.

"Careful, kid. Gods don't take insults lightly. You're lucky I'm a little kinder than most other gods. You _will _follow me, lieutenant," Ares spoke firmly. It was ironic to see Ares as _kind, _but Percy was in no mood to enjoy it. There had to be a proper purpose to go to where Ares was describing. Percy figured easily that it should have been where the rest of the Greek gods resided. He wondered, though, if it would look the same way it did in mythological interpretations and art.

"You know what? It's cool. I'm fine with seeing your other god-friends. But why would your so-called "god" residents or whatever the fuck they're called, be interested in me?" Percy asked. It strangely felt like a stupid question, like the answer was staring right in front of Percy's face.

And to make things seem stranger, his dear patron had already begun laughing his ass off. Percy knew that it was going to be dreadful, if a manic, war-mongering immortal found it hilarious. Ares' flaming eyes gleamed, looking at Percy with insatiable hunger.

"_Judgement, _kid."


End file.
